


Shape of You

by zedi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Anniversary, Blow Jobs, Bottom Harry, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, But Harry Likes It, Cheeky Harry, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Feminization, First Meetings, Flirting, Frottage, Harry in Lingerie, Harry in Panties, Harry wakes Louis up with one, Kinda?, Louis Tomlinson Calls Harry Styles Pet Names, M/M, Oral Sex, Puns & Word Play, Smut, Sub Harry, Top Louis, Voyeurism, but Louis likes it, parallel theming, the others are mentioned briefly - Freeform, the word slut is used
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:46:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zedi/pseuds/zedi
Summary: For Prompt:Fic or One shot idea where Harry dances in front of his flat windows and he doesn’t notice Louis in the flat across the alley from his.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [Ashtarok](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashtarok/pseuds/Ashtarok) for being a fucking inspiration and beta-ing this fic. It's taken me twice as long to get this one out due to untimely mental illness issues, but it's finally here!
> 
> originally got the prompt from this [post](http://zedi-omega.tumblr.com/private/158058475477/tumblr_ohjbk7ezyt1ubhwzq)
> 
> yes I based the title off Ed Sheeran's song of the same name, sue me (please don't actually)
> 
> I also hid some 1d lyrics in there, have fun.
> 
> (P.S. - I finished this like...an hour or so before we lost our damn minds over Sign of the Times)
> 
> (P.P.S. - if you'd rather skip the smut, I will have *** right before it starts, and it comes at the end so you don't miss anything)
> 
> Update: made edits to this!  
> _

* * *

 

* * *

 

 **_I'm in love with the shape of you_ **  
**_We push and pull like a magnet do_**  
**_Although my heart is falling too_**  
**_I'm in love with your body_**

* * *

 

Finally locking the door of his flat closed on the outside world, Louis leans back against the painted wood and holds a deep breath in his lungs… before letting it out along with the tension held between his shoulders. It’s been a long day, covering for someone’s opening shift along with his own that lasted until  _ well  _ after the dinner rush. He can feel his calves buzzing from being on his feet all day, and, speaking of which, his feet are sore despite the ergonomic design of his slip-resistant shoes.

Dropping his keys onto the rescued side table next to the door and toeing off his shoes, he clumps through the apartment, stripping out of his work outfit as he goes. He’s too exhausted to care that he’ll have to pick it up later; right now he just needs a hot bath and a cold beer, preferably in that order.

He starts the bath first, adding foaming salts for his aching muscles and a splash of lavender bubbles for the fun of it. Sitting on the edge, he watches the tub fill, eyes drooping with every droplet of water that splashes out to land on his leg. When the water’s switched from hot to cold, he cuts the tap and lays out a towel before sinking into the almost too warm water, groaning and perfectly submerged in bliss.

His head leans back against the lip of the clawfoot basin and his eyes close. He stays, just soaking in the water, until it’s lukewarm and the bubbles have all but dispersed. Scrubbing off the film of sweat and grease quickly in the cooling water before pulling the plug after he’s rinsed the soap off, makes Louis feel a little more human again.

Drying off and securing the towel about his hips, the next stop on his mission to relax takes him into the kitchen. The light of the fridge greets him like a familiar friend when he reaches in for the last bottle of pale lager. He’d have to remember to grab another six pack when he next passed the corner store down the road. Cap popped off and fringe sticking wet to his forehead, Louis finally settles onto the sofa, sinking in and taking a long pull of the amber liquid.

Too knackered to bother turning on the telly, blue eyes stare off blankly out the window. Or, the sliding glass door. It opens onto a sad, little balcony that Louis only really uses when the weather’s nice or he’s having the rare cigarette. There had once been curtains to shield from the uninteresting view, but too many drinks on a lads night in over the weekend had seen them crashing down, along with the rod that held them. Now the evening sun slants through, illuminating the dust in the air like golden flecks.

Just as he’s about to call it an early night, beer finished and head nodding, movement catches his eye. It’s coming from the flats across the alley from his, slightly nicer units that house floor to ceiling windows facing his way- that Louis has personally always thought were ridiculous, considering as their view is much the same as his; another building of flats.

Perhaps that’s why the man in the flat directly across from his has no coverings on his own windows and is dancing around what looks like his living room with the grace of a newborn giraffe. In a silk dressing gown. And tiny white boy shorts. Perhaps he thought no one would be witness to the way his long, long,  _ long  _ body stretches and sways, since most people keep their balcony doors covered and they’re a few stories up. If Louis still had curtains, he’d have never witnessed the sight before him.

As it is, his mouth is dry and he feels held in place by the beautiful man across from him. The dressing gown hangs loosely, one sleeve rucked down into the crook of his elbow, an array of black ink decorating pale stretches of skin. Louis doesn’t know what music is playing, couldn’t possibly, but if it makes someone so entrancing swing and sway and dip and spin, then it’s now officially and abruptly his favorite.

It’s when intense eyes look over his direction that he snaps out of his trance. Fuck, he’s been intruding on this stranger’s privacy! 

Scrambling up from the sofa and down the hall to his bedroom, Louis slams the door and pants like he’s been chased there by a wild animal. It takes a minute for the feeling of being caught to be replaced with the chill of the air.

He’d lost his towel somewhere between the living room and the bedroom. Louis doesn’t feel like trying to go get it.

* * *

 

“Alright there, Lou?” snaps him out of the staring contest Louis was having with the wall above the dish washing area. His hands are raw from the bleach and the brillo pad, and he’s been sneezing enough from the smell that he’s got a headache developing. He’d just finished the last batch of dirty pans when his mind had finally checked out. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there doing nothing. An hour? Five minutes?

“Oi, Louis!” Right. Someone was talking to him.

Slowly turning his head, he finds Niall giving him a look that lands somewhere between concerned and exasperated. “Is it five o’clock yet?”

“Mate, are you feeling alright? Ye look like ya might tip and take a nap in the sink. Not recommended, ye might drown, and then we’d have a lawsuit ta deal wit’.”

Louis blinks slowly before looking at the water. It’s disgusting at this point, grease floating on the surface and murky with residue. He really should have drained it out already. He tries to imagine how horrible drowning in it would be. “Tell my family I love them.”

Niall laughs uncomfortably, before clapping a hand on his shoulder and shaking him slightly. “Think it’s time ye head on home for the day, don’t need ye here if ye’re thinking of ending it all in the dishwater.”

“We only have four people on shift, Ni, I can’t just-”

“The fuck you can’t, mate. Perrie is the drive-thru Queen, Grimmy is our best for front line expo, and Steve has been working the back line since before either of us worked here. We’ll get it done, and you’re a bit useless right now.”

And Louis knew that, as manager, the other lad had the authority to dismiss him. Still. “It’s scary when you get serious, you know.”

At that, Niall breaks into a huge grin. “It’s my job to look out for you lot. Like my little babbies.”

“I’m older than you.”

“And I’m the manager. Now go clock out, I already got it ready for ye. Go home, take a bath, eat dinner, go to bed. That’s an order.”

* * *

 

Getting home is much like the day before. Breathe deep while lent against the door, shuffle through the flat to the bathroom, soak in the water until he’s sure he’ll be permanently pruned, grab something from the fridge, slouch into the couch. Small things break up the monotony, like not adding anything to his bath water and actually heating himself up some leftover takeaway for dinner.

It’s not until he finds himself looking out the sliding glass door that the evening before comes flooding back to the forefront of his mind.

Today the man across the way is flouncing around the kitchen, adjacent to the living space. Wearing baby doll lingerie. Pale blue baby doll lingerie. Sheer enough Louis can almost make out the tattoos on the other man’s torso through the material, even over the distance.

Louis is at least wearing joggers this time, but it does nothing to help the interested twitch his cock gives. Dropping his head on the back of the sofa, he groans out his frustration. He really needs to do something about being able to see cute, curly haired neighbors in skimpy outfits. At least ones that have no knowledge that he can see the adorable way they shake their hips and wiggle their bums as they putter about their kitchens.

Taking his food and sense of decency, Louis decides to eat in his bedroom. Maybe he can distract himself from the sight he just saw with a mindless hour or so of youtube.

He really needs to get new curtains. And laid.

* * *

 

The next day sees Louis staring at different types of bouquets at a flower shop trying to figure out which one says, “Sorry I accidentally watched you dance in your pretty underwear and liked it.”

It’s his day off and the only thing he could think to do with himself is to apologize, somehow, to the man who wears pretty things and prances about a flat much nicer than his own. If nothing else, it will help to clear his own conscience.

He’s thinking about maybe going with the blue bells (possibly because he still has the image of the flimsy fabric that had draped so beautifully on the other male burned into his mind) when someone sidles up beside him.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” the voice is low and slow, and Louis finds himself having to tilt his head back to look at the tall stranger.

And immediately chokes.

There, smiling concernedly down at him, is the very man he’s trying to buy flowers for. What the hell is Louis’ life?

A sinfully large hand gently pats him in between the shoulder blades. “Are you alright? Sorry if I startled you, I just thought you looked a bit lost.”

It takes Louis a moment to collect himself, but once he’s recovered he gets out a weak “yeah, thanks,” before trying to navigate the situation, mentally freaking out about the hand that’s lingering on his upper back. Being honest seems like the best option. “Uhm, I kind of need something to say ‘I’m sorry’ with?”

Okay, so partial honesty.

Tall, curly, and handsome furrows his eyebrows, pouting and looking like a confused frog. Louis can see now that his eyes are a clear, bright green, and that at least one of the prominent tattoos on his torso is that of two swallows flying toward each other. Long fingers adorned with rings reach up to pull at plump, pink lips, and Louis is having a hard time not remembering what the man looks like in panties.

“Well,” starts the entrancing stranger (but not really stranger, half stranger?), voice like velvet and careful as he’s truly thinking through his answer, “it depends what you’re apologizing for? Red and white mixed roses are good for hurting a lover, carnations are for missed meetings, tulips you give to loved ones, and hyacinths are sort of a general apology flower.”

Louis might be staring. Curly has a face fit for selling something and a body fit for… well, he’s just fit. Looking over to the flowers again, the shorter of the two tries to figure out what a hyacinth looks like. “Where’s that last one you mentioned?”

“Over here, we keep them separate from the bouquets since they’re usually used more for arrangements.” The hand on his back is suddenly helping to guide him to the correct area, feather light and unaware of its effect on him. “I recommend our blue shade, it means sincerity in the language of the flowers.”

The pretty blossoms being pointed out are even better (or worse, depending) than his earlier choice of blue bells. They grow clustered around the stalk, bell-shaped and flaring out like stars. He looks back up at the man with a boyish dimple popping in his left cheek. “They’re… perfect.”

“Great! Do you want them arranged here, or delivered?” The hand drops from his back, its owner moving towards the till in the back of the store with a loping gait that suits the incredibly long legs making it. Louis follows like a moth drawn to flame.

“Erm, I’ll just get them here, thanks.” Now that they’re facing each other, Louis gets an eyeful. He can now also recognise the pink and white polka-dot shirt that’s been left three fourths of the way unbuttoned, and that there’s a giant butterfly in black on his upper abdomen that teases Louis as much as the man himself.

He’s not sure if knowing more about this person makes him feel better or worse about his odds of not obsessing over him.

“Would you like it in a vase as well?” proceeds the man, unaware of Louis’ inner turmoil. Receiving a nod, Curly continues to ring the bouquet up before moving about the shop to put everything together.

Louis watches as those slender fingers work to arrange the stems so the petite blossoms don’t squish against each other, gently giving the petals loving touches and even whispering encouragements. It’s the purest thing he’s ever witnessed and he wants to know if this charming man is this caring and tender with animals. Or children.

Louis needs to take a fucking breath.

When the flowers look perfect and have been paid for, he’s faced with what he’s been dreading ever since he walked into the small shop.

“Would you like a note to go with these?”

Louis rubs at the back of his neck, feeling the prickle of a blush wash over him to his toes. “Ah, I guess?”

“Don’t worry, you can write the message yourself, if you’re worried about me seeing.” A bright smile, both dimples popping deep in each cheek, and Louis knew he was truly doomed.

He holds out his hand for the notecard, taking up the pen on the counter and taking a deep breath before just biting the bullet. “What’s your name then?”

Green eyes widen almost comically, blinking owlishly back at him. For the first time, Curly looks taken aback. “I… wha? M- _ My _ name?” And damn him, this man is too endearing.

“Yep,” Louis says, popping the ‘p’ and refusing to lose his nerve.

“Well, uhm… Harry, ‘m Harry.”

Louis nods, writing out the note he’d had planned:

_ Hello, Harry. _

_ My name is Louis, and these flowers are for you as a sincere apology. You live across the alley from me, and recently the curtains that used to cover my balcony sliding door have gotten pulled down due to alcohol and stupid ideas. As a result, I have seen you dancing around in varying states of undress. Though this has not offended me, I felt guilty for witnessing you in such a way without your knowledge or consent. I hope you will forgive me, and continue loving yourself the way it seems you do. _

_ Trying to fix the situation, _

_ Louis _

Folding the note as evenly as he can, he tucks it between the clustered flowers carefully and finally looks back up at the other man- at  _ Harry _ . “Do me a favor?” Wavy curls sway when Harry gives him a confused nod. “Don’t read the note ‘til you can’t see me, please.”

With that Louis pivots around and marches determinedly out of the small, sweet-smelling boutique and quickly makes his way back to his flat, face red and fingers twitching.

* * *

 

The rest of the evening and next few days, Louis is a nervous ball of restless energy. He avoids looking out his window with the fervor of a repentant nun (he finally pinned a blanket over it) and is constantly distracted while at work, dropping things and needing customers to repeat themselves too often. Niall sends him glances heavy with concern and asks him if he’s alright nearly every hour.

It’s a full week later when something finally happens. He’s slumping down the hall to his flat when the little, old lady who lives across from him comes shuffling out of her own home.

“Oh good, I was hoping I remembered your schedule right!” Her orange tabby curls about her ankles as she smiles at him. “They left something outside your door, but I was worried someone might snatch it.” She's turning back in, voice muffling, seeming unaware of the contradictory and amusing situation.

Louis chuckles lightly, stepping forward to let her cat sniff at him and take the parcels from her so she doesn’t have to lift them too long. “Someone might say you’re snatching instead, my love.”

She tuts at him, handing over one long, skinny package and a small, squat box. He doesn’t remember ordering anything that would be shaped like them, so he figures they might be from his mother. They exchange goodbyes, Louis giving an extra coo down to the tabby rubbing against his shins.

He maneuvers his way into his own abode, juggling the mystery mail through the door and laying them down on the floor. He stands there, hands on hips, looking down at them and trying to imagine what they might be. Suddenly, he realizes that what he thought was the address label is in fact a cleverly written note instead, following the format.

Taking a closer look, he feels his face heat up when he realizes who it’s from.

_ Hello! You came in my flower shop the other day! _

_ I’m sorry to hear about your situation, _

_ And appreciate that you wanted to restore my honor. _

_ I hope this helps fix the problem ;) _

There’s even a square sticker of a smiley flower in the corner like a stamp and Louis really can’t stand how cute Harry is. He takes in the shapes of the boxes again and it dawns on him that it must be a curtain and the rod to hang it on.

Slowly opening the long box first, he pulls out a standard curtain rod with another handwritten message saying that Harry hopes it doesn’t clash with his decor too much. There’s even extra screws in a plastic baggy.

Next he opens the other box, wondering what type of curtain Harry would’ve picked for him. He’s not expecting to pull out a completely transparent shower curtain. There’s something folded up in it, and when he unwraps it he finds a pair of binoculars.

A shocked giggle starts small and builds into a full on laugh, body curling forward as he wheezes and covers his face with his hands. Eventually he loses balance and keels over on his side, snickers hissing through his teeth and arms wrapped around himself, tears pricking at his eyes from mirth. When he can finally breathe without a new bout of giddy hiccups, Louis starfishes out on the floor and pants up at the ceiling, goofy smile splitting his face.

Getting up, he surveys the items laid out and comes to a decision. If Harry can be a cheeky flirt, then so can Louis.

* * *

 

He now understands what had taken Harry so long to get his flirty gifts to Louis; without much more than a name and a general understanding of where the other’s flat is, it’s a bit difficult to ascertain the exact place to leave boxes outside of. And Harry had the advantage of Louis’ full name to go off of, since Louis paid with his card, whereas Louis only has a first name and a general direction.

He finally chooses instead to send the package to Harry’s flower shop instead, with an envelope taped on and a note that says to open in privacy. The gift he sent is… a bit of a risk as well as risque, and he hopes he read the tone of Harry’s flirting correctly.

He’d been planning something more simple, to be honest, like more flowers that meant “Thank You” or “Can I Take You To Dinner Sometime?” but when he’d passed the unassuming shop while walking to the pub for a pint with Niall, Louis hadn’t been able to resist going in and buying the items he’d found inside. They’d been perfect, and sent back the same sort of cheeky attitude as Harry’s binoculars had.

Well. He hoped.

The box he ended up hand delivering (for no other reason than it felt right) to the little flower shop was small and from the store he’d bought it in, taped securely closed and innocent-looking enough, despite its pastel pink colouring. Louis’d carefully slotted it through the mail drop a full three hours before the boutique was set to open for the day, not wanting another awkward encounter just yet.

And so now Louis was left to sweat it out and wait to see what Harry would do next.

Niall didn’t appreciate him being even more distracted at work that day in the slightest. Oh well.

* * *

 

He didn’t have to wait long for a reply. It was after getting through the door to his flat, laughing at himself again for actually hanging the shower curtains (though he pulled them aside now as, despite being clear, they still warped what you saw through them) that he immediately spotted Harry in his own flat and-  _ oh. _

Scrambling for the binoculars, he finally has a means to better drool over the long, lean man across the way. Louis has permission now, as well, which makes it even better to him.

Draped gracefully on Harry’s body is the negligee Louis had found, sheer and decorated with faded designs of flowers. He’s not sure what type it is, the front hem being shorter than the back of the top, but whatever the cut is does wonders to reveal the pretty pink lacy panties he’d bought for Harry as well. He’d felt for himself just how soft they were, not scratchy like some lace can be on lingerie.

Everything looks gorgeous, as Louis had suspected it would, flowing and billowing around Harry’s torso. Harry, who was dancing again, this time slow and languid like he knew it’d look the best. God, but Louis wants to know what it feels like to have his hands on that waist while it twists and swishes. His gift was accepted, Harry had  _ wanted _ him to watch him through the window.

He’s not sure how long he watches Harry, entranced as always by the long-haired man. Eventually Harry turns toward his window, blowing a kiss and winking before sashaying further into his flat, disappearing from sight. Louis finally comes to a decision.

The next time he sees Harry dressed like that will be in person.

Before he lowers the binoculars, he finally spies a vase of star shaped flowers sitting proudly on the dining room table.

* * *

 

Harry may have abused his friendship with Liam, but what good is having a police officer with the means to track down cute boys who buy him apology flowers if he can’t exploit it? And anyway, if Liam wants Harry to stop complaining about never meeting anyone, he should be more than happy to help him out with his whims. Though, it had taken the promise of baking him his favorite biscuits as well as a beautifully arranged vase of flowers for his desk at the station before he agreed.

Louis, the devastatingly handsome man who had bumbled into his flower shop and had wanted to apologize for being a peeping tom. With flowers. Who had rushed out of the boutique after writing the note in the most endearing display of bashfulness Harry's ever witnessed.

Who left the softest, cutest negligee and knickers for him at his store and made him blush in the back room after opening up the package without reading the note attached to the box.

_ Harry, _

_ Thank you for the curtain, I’ve hung it up and kept the binoculars nearby ;) _

_ I saw these and thought of you. If I’m on the same page as you, then I hope you’re flattered. If I’m wrong, feel free to flip me off next time past 6 comes around. You can also keep these for yourself, you’re not obligated to wear them for me at all. _

_ Might want to open this up when you get to a private place, since this gift is for your eyes only. _

_ Hoping this is cute and not creepy, _

_ Louis _

The fact that, even after Harry sent the man  _ translucent shower curtains and a pair of binoculars _ , Louis was still making sure he wasn’t overstepping boundaries somehow had endeared the man to him even more.

Of course he had worn the items that evening, choosing to dance around his flat to slow, fluid piano music so he could really show off how good he looked and felt wearing the gift. And now the ball is back in Louis’ court.

Harry had given him the go ahead. Twice now. Hopefully he’d be going on a date with Louis as a result.

* * *

 

Now that Louis has been given a green light from Harry, he’s unsure how to take their flirting from the more removed exchanging of cheeky gifts to the much more personal next step of asking to grab coffee together. What if they actually have nothing in common? What if the chemistry ends at Harry wearing cute, skimpy outfits for Louis to ogle at from his sliding glass door? What if Harry is secretly an alien that seduces his victims before leading them to their doom?

Maybe it’s been an embarrassing amount of time since Louis’ pulled.

In the end he finds himself staring at a wall of flowers once again, trying to figure out which ones mean “You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen and I’d like to take you out.” He hopes it isn’t roses. And that the recipient will show up soon to help him.

Sure enough, a warm presence comes up beside him, and he can’t help the smirk that twitches at his lips.

“We need to stop meeting like this,” murmurs the low voice that’s been haunting Louis’ dreams for the past two weeks. Turning slightly to look at the tall, delicate beauty standing next to him, Louis takes in the flower crown that seems to be twisted together from fresh blossoms and sits neatly among soft curls. The green of Harry's eyes look brighter than he remembers, a smile dancing there. Louis wonders if he’ll get to taste those plump, pink lips soon.

If he can stop staring and banter back, that is.

“Well, there’s someone I need to buy another bouquet for, the last one went over really well.” Louis looks back towards the brightly coloured blossoms, keeping Harry in his peripheral view and hoping he’s still got it.

Given the deep dimples popping in the other man’s cheeks, he does.

“Will it be another apology arrangement?” despite the question, it’s obvious Harry knows where this is going.

“No, I was hoping you might help me put together a custom bouquet, want to send a very specific message this time round.” He fingers at the soft petals of a tulip. “More...romantic.”

Harry hums next to him, the sound warm and velvety, “Not just a bunch of roses?” and when Louis angles to look at him straight on, his eyebrows are raised in interest.

Louis shakes his head. “Too common, too expected. This person deserves something that tells them everything I’m thinking about them, something as unique as they are.” Louis smiles at the blush that settles high on Harry’s cheekbones.

Gesturing for Louis to continue, they begin to stroll around the small shop. “First, I need a flower that means something about admiring from afar?” Quick as he’s described what he wants, Harry is skipping over and plucking up a yellow chrysanthemum. At Louis’ amused eyebrow, he explains that it means secret admirer. Nodding his approval, Louis continues. “Next, something about… a beautiful soul? Stop giving me that look, I’m  _ not _ quoting Jesse McCartney!” Both of them laughing, the next flower Harry picks is something described as a larkspur by its label.

Nervousness gets the shy sweet pea, and appreciation for femininity is matched with what Louis learns is called Queen Anne's Lace. Tuberose joins when Louis mentions finding pleasure from the other person (Harry’s blush gets redder) and the whole thing is finished off with a colourful flower called a stargazer, Harry’s own pick, which apparently means ambition. Harry gives him a wink as he tucks it in with the others, a coy, little smile on his lips.

“Would you like it in a vase like last time?” Harry asks, grabbing more of each flora to fill out the arrangement properly.

Following his long legs as they walk to the till, Louis nods absently and gives a sheepish smile when he’s caught staring. “Yes, please. I have a feeling the person will want to keep these on display.”

They follow the same pattern as last time, much less awkwardly, and when it comes time to sign a note, Louis is less afraid of Harry’s reaction.

“No peeking now, young Harold, don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Oh, so these  _ are _ for me, then? You were so vague, I was wondering if you buy boys flowers regularly…” Harry giggles at being swatted at, the two sharing hopeful gazes before Louis returns to writing his note. It’s much simpler than his others.

_ Kensington Gardens _

_ Palace Gate _

_ Half past 11 _

_ Sunday _

_ Wear a smile _

He folds the note again, sliding it across the counter with a flirtatious smirk and the feeling that he’s won. “Do me a favor?” Harry nods his assent, curls bobbing, much less confused this time around about playing out the script of weeks past. “Don’t read the note ‘til you can’t see me, please.”

And with that, he’s flaunting out of the shop, a grand contrast to the nervous dash from a fortnight ago.

* * *

 

It’s a blessedly sunny day, warm with a light cool breeze. Birds are chirping. The sidewalk is bustling with people enjoying the weekend. A bright murmur fills the air.

Louis is too nervous to appreciate any of it. He had taken a bus, knee bouncing the entire ride and disturbing the put-upon mother of three very excited children sitting next to him. As soon as his stop came he had flashed her a sheepish smile and nearly stumbled off the steps in his anxious haste.

Walking from the Palace Gate stop along the stone wall topped with black metal bars, Louis makes his way towards the entrance to the park. He can see people milling about the soft-serve ice cream stall, what looks to be a family outing. Pausing at the opening, he searches the area to try and spot long curls and bright green eyes.

Instead he is startled by the sight of a distinctly out of place sunflower, big and saturated, standing alone in the middle of where the paths fork. But, hang on, it’s being held by long, ring-clad fingers…

Dimples peek out from behind the head of the flower, a single playful eye winking at him as Harry tilts his head to the side. Beaming back, Louis makes his way over to him, watching the rest of Harry’s face come into view as he lowers the blossom to his chest.

Before Louis can think of something clever to say, the other man beats him to a greeting. “Hey, Louis, do you know how flowers kiss?” The question catches him off guard, certainly not what he was expecting. Chuckling a bit bemusedly, Louis shrugs and shakes his head. “With their  _ two-lips _ .” As if to emphasize the punchline, the taller man bops the sunflower gently on Louis’ head.

Louis is incredibly endeared and they’ve barely begun their date.

“Is this for me, then? Thought flowers were my thing.” His eyes crinkle with his smile as he traces a finger along the stem of the sunflower, the feeling rough against his skin. “Also, never took you for a pun man.”

Harry hands the flower over to him, smiling so wide a dimple pops in both his cheeks. “Flowers can be  _ our _ thing, we can share that, really.” He tilts his head, curls cascading beautifully with the motion. “And why wouldn’t you think I liked puns? My flower shop is called  _ Peony for Your Thoughts.” _

They continue to banter as Louis offers his arm for Harry to take and leads them toward The Flower Walk. Maybe the pretty boy on his arm is right. Flowers can be their thing.

* * *

 

When Louis gets home, he feels drained and can barely keep his eyes from drooping the same way he wilts against the front door. His voice is rough from being on drive-thru all evening, and his fingers have random, inexplicable cuts in them. Miniscule chunks of skin missing like the hours he spent dealing with people who called him “Miss” because his voice sounds more feminine over the headset. His feet feel heavy even after he toes off his shoes, and he can still feel the layer of grime left behind from cleaning dishes creeping up to his elbows.

The day was not supposed to go like this. He was  _ supposed _ to have the day off because…

“Lou?” even as tired as he is, that low, velvety voice still makes his eyes crinkle at the corners from smiling. He’s heard that voice in all types of ways now, high and breathy, low and gravelly, pitched and a bit whiny. That voice has sung him sweet lullabies late at night, cried out his name in the heat where they lay basking in morning sunlight.

Tonight, the voice says all he needs in that simple syllable.  _ I’m here, welcome home, I missed you _ .

Harry  _ is  _ there, walking from the living room to cup Louis’ jaw in his hands. Lips brush together gently, sweet like the smoothies he likes to drink, and their foreheads rest against each other in a quiet moment. “Love coming home to you, wouldn’t give it up for anything,” Louis breathes.

He knows Harry is smiling, can feel it when a kiss is pressed to his forehead. “Love you coming home to me, my working man.”

It must say how tired he is that Louis doesn’t banter back, just hums and reaches for Harry. Over the years he’s found that there’s nothing like the dip of Harry’s waist, the way it fits his hand nicely and gives way to soft love handles at the hip. Louis’ spent many a night mouthing over and biting the giving bits of flesh, pressing bruises with his fingers and tracing over them the next morning.

“Bath?” Louis’ voice comes out raspier than usual, and he tries to clear his throat. “Can use those rose oil drops you like, get all nice and clean for you? I’m-”

“Louis Tomlinson, if you apologize one more time about working on our anniversary, I’ll dye all your jeans pink!” Harry’s got a grumpy, little pout on his full lips and his eyebrows are furrowed adorably. “You were the only person who could cover, I understand. Things happen.”

Louis’ heart melts. He himself had nearly drowned Niall when asked to give up the evening he had taken off. It wasn’t until the Irish manager explained that literally no one else could take up the shift, that Louis, reluctantly, conceded.

But not before rearranging the entire back storeroom and putting away the dishes on the  _ highest shelf _ to show just how he felt about the situation.

Louis’ grumbling about it to himself as Harry rolls his eyes and tugs him through the flat. It’s the one they moved into together almost a year after they got together, a ‘family home’ as they told their friends. They’d upgraded to a cozy two bed and bath, eyes sparkling at the thought of one day dressing the second room up for a child of their own. For now it serves as a guest room for when family visits, which is often.

He’s lead to their master suite, claw foot tub full of water that’s still steaming. At the eyebrow Louis raises, Harry shrugs sheepishly. “I know when you get home from evening shifts by now, thought it’d be nice if you could come home to a nice, hot bath to soak in.”

“God help me but I love you.” Louis’ reeling his boy in by a hand in his curls, groaning softly when their lips meet. “Join me? Wanna hold you.”

The bath was filled for one, so they have to drain some out to prevent overflow, but finally Louis is resting against the tilt of the tub with Harry between his legs, back to chest. He’s got wet curls tickling his collarbone and the weight of a head on his shoulder, and Louis’ finally able to melt into the steamy water.

The air smells like roses and there’s a fresh bouquet sitting on the counter. Harry likes to tease Louis about his reluctant acceptance of the stereotypical blossoms, filling their flat on special occasions with roses of as many colours as he can. (Louis will never admit it, but the fact that Harry is so disgustingly romantic sends a thrill through him at every example shown.)

Louis spends most of the bath kissing Harry’s neck and letting himself be washed off by clever fingers. When the water is lukewarm and murky with soap residue and the long day, the plug is pulled and his tired bones are pulled out of the tub into a soft, fluffy towel. Face split in a dopey grin, Louis lets himself be tutted and fussed over until he’s dry and dressed in clean boxers.

It isn’t until they’re tucking into the bed and Harry’s about to turn the light out that Louis speaks up again. “You don’t want…?” He’s not entirely sure how to word  _ do you not want to make love? _ without sounding like a dickhead, but Harry still understands him perfectly.

Humming warmly and turning his head to give Louis a kiss, he cuddles back more snuggly in his position as the little spoon. “Tomorrow, right now you need sleep. We both have no work or plans, can spend all day on that,” he’s purring into Louis’ mouth by the end, teasing his tongue against thin lips before settling down and wrapping Louis’ arm around him.

They both fall asleep with smiles.

* * *

 

***

Louis wakes up to a shot of arousal in his gut and his hips pinned to the mattress. When the wet heat around the tip of his cock sucks again his back arches with the startled moan he lets out. He hears and  _ feels _ a giggle hummed around the crown, and lifting the sheet he finds Harry managing to grin up at him with Louis’ dick in his mouth. Talented cocksucker, Harry is.

“Well good morning t-  _ ah! _ -you too, baby.” The other man looks in bliss like this, eyelashes fluttering when precome blurts out onto his tongue. He’s so goddamn beautiful and Louis doesn’t know how he got so lucky.

He paid off his thanks to the friend that broke his curtains ages ago- bought him a fancy dinner of his choice and everything. Harry likes to send him sneaky flowers every so often.

Harry must have been working him over for a bit, since his foreskin is already pulled behind the head of his cock, rolling easily over and away when Harry moves his hand over him. Louis’ eyes roll back in his head when his boy sticks out his tongue and sinks further down, swallowing when the tip hits the back of his throat. “Fuck, baby, love your mouth, made to take me down so good. Couldn’t wait ‘til I was awake to celebrate our anniversary, could you? So good for me love, such a slut for it.”

Harry keens high in the back of his throat, starting to bob eagerly on Louis’ cock and fisting what he can’t swallow down. Green eyes are glassy and welling with tears as he looks up at him, cheeks hollowed obscenely and lips a dark shade of pink.

It had taken Louis a bit to realize when they first started having sex that Harry liked to be called dirty things, loved being praised and told how good he was. The first time Louis had called Harry a “Princess” had seen the other choking on a moan and coming so hard he nearly passed out. Louis began doing it as often as he could, a lot of times out in public, just to see the way his green eyes darkened and cheeks flushed.

An arm is keeping Louis’ hips pressed to the bed, but it doesn’t stop the tiny jumps they give every time his cock gets deepthroated. Curls are fisted in his hand, moans vibrating around his cock with every tug Louis gives to the long waves, and he doesn’t think he’s going to be able  last very much longer.

“Baby, Harry,  _ Princess _ ,” Harry whines around him at the name, “if you don’t stop I’m gonna come already.”

Lips reluctantly suck a final drag up and off his length, pink, flirty tongue flicking into the slit and making Louis jerk. Purring, Harry crawls up his body, dropping kisses as he goes before crashing their lips together. It tastes like every blessed year that’s passed, morning breath and late night conversations and even the spats rolling across his tongue when he parts his lips for Harry. Also, his own precome. They lay like that a moment, lips smacking and bodies plastered together under the sheets. The mid morning sun is lighting up the room like a halo of warmth and Harry’s skin feels like home under his fingertips.

Harry seems to become restless, circling his hips against Louis and moaning into his mouth softly. Rolling them over, Louis takes the time to suck a fresh, pretty bruise onto the jut of his boy’s collarbone before hooking Harry’s legs over his hips and grinding their cocks together. They both groan at the feeling, heads thrown back and fingers gripping at each other.

Louis lowers back down to bury his face in Harry’s neck, starting to pant as he ruts his hips forward. “So beautiful baby, all for me, spread out for me to enjoy. Want me to come all over you? Show my pretty baby how good he makes me feel?”

The whine Harry answers him with is high and breathy, followed by a hiccup as the younger man wraps his arms around Louis’ shoulders. “Please Daddy, wanna be your good Princess, wanna be covered in Daddy’s come!” and oh, Harry’s truly gone for it, calling him  _ Daddy _ like that.

Speeding up his hips and mouthing at Harry’s throat, Louis snakes a hand between them to wrap around both their cocks. Harry’s is drippy as always, foreskin rolling back and the head peeking out shyly with every downward stroke of Louis’ hand. Precome slicks the way as they both thrust their hips in time, their heavy breathing filling the room as they work toward release.

Harry’s steadily whimpering into his ear, body arching and writhing against him and fingernails dragging across Louis’ shoulder blades, breathy  _ Daddy’ _ s and  _ please’ _ s chanting in between hitching breaths. Louis’ sucking at his throat and whispering filthily into the younger man’s ear until he feels the telltale tensing up in the body below his.

“Wanna come for me, princess? Show Daddy what a good little boy you are?” Harry sobs with a nod, legs wrapping around Louis’ waist and arms pulling them so close his hand gets squished between them. “Come for, love, be Daddy’s sweet boy.”

With a final hiccuped moan Harry’s spurting between them, hot come streaking up their stomachs and over Louis’ hand. He continues to stroke them both, lubed with Harry’s come, even when the boy begins to twitch with overstimulation. Heat coiling tight in his groin, Louis sears their lips together as he finally releases his own orgasm. His cock jumps in his hand as he paints over the come already cooling from Harry’s climax, making a mess of them both. When he finally pulls his hand away Harry gives a weak mewl, long fingers dragging through the mess on his torso, rubbing it in.

As they both come down, Louis presses lazy kisses into Harry’s mouth and softly praises his boy, nuzzling their noses together and peppering his cheeks with kisses. Giggling, Harry bats at him with a limp hand.

“You know,” he starts, voice rough and wrecked from his orgasm and sucking Louis off, “I had this whole thing planned with lingerie and the floor-length mirror and I was going to make you watch me get myself off, but… I kind of liked this better.” Stretching languidly beneath him, a content smile plays over supple, slightly bruised lips.

Louis can’t help but kiss him again, the both of them giggling into each other’s mouths and rolling to cuddle together. “I have to be honest, I don’t know if I would have had the patience.”

When they can no longer stand the tacky, crusty feel of being covered in come, they leave the bed to take a shower. And if Louis sucks another orgasm out of Harry as a secret apology for not doing this on the day before, well.

He’ll just buy Harry some flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> soooooo~? re-blog the fic [here](http://sugarbabyomega.tumblr.com/post/159326963597/shape-of-you-by-zedi-rating-explicit-archive)


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